Copani Story

Aglianan had followed Stylian back to her quarters. She had many conflicting thoughts and needed to get them all straightened out and a good work out would help her accomplish that. She looked around her quarters and realized that running was not an option, so she would have to do with other exercises. “Stylian, contact the Ontanon and find me somewhere I can run. Also, find out if there is an area with exercise equipment.

While Stylian was making the inquiries she requested, she was working out in her quarters and thinking about her conversation with Boro’Ank Zakrianan. She wondered why he refused to use his First Ones Royal title. She wondered about Boro’Ches Lady P’Mela and why the Boro’Ank had the strong feelings that he seemed to have for her. A very important question that she hadn’t had the nerve yet to ask was ‘who else had been awakened so far’. She was sure the Boro’Ank would tell her at the correct time. Other questions raced through her head and, as they came faster, she started working out more vigorously, even though she knew her body needed to rest still. She was excited about the mission as she loved action and she was looking forward to going to the Auroran outpost.

Aglianan was working out too hard and her body was using up it’s limited supply of energy. SSC Aglianan collapsed on the floor, hearing the accusing voice of VinZian Ravinian again. He had never appreciated the “free spirit” of her and the squadron she commanded, even though they excelled at their job. VinZian thought of them as renegades and outcasts and was occasionally heard to say, “ If her Squadron doesn’t change their tactics, you will never see her promoted higher than she is already, or worse, they will all be put into stasis.” SSC Galadstin had heard these statements only once but sneered at him and said, “And I’m sure you will give them all the evidence they would need to convict me, especially if we don’t abide by your every order?” When he nodded, she finished her brief speech, “In that case I would suggest you get those stasis pods ready, because I don’t answer to you”. At that point she had walked out on him, afraid she would perform a form of suicide. She realized that she had probably gone too far this time but all her life she had had trouble with authority and it wouldn’t be the first time she got into trouble because of that. That she was getting into trouble on purpose this time was beside the point. This mission had precedence over everything else.

Slowly SSC Aglianan came to on the floor of her quarters. Stylian was standing near her. “I’m okay Stylian, I just over did my work out a bit”. Stylian gave her some water to drink, “You’re Demon trainer is ready for you to begin your flight training. Would you care fo me to call off your training session? “
“No Stylian, simply ask him to give me a few minutes and I’ll be there shortly.” Aglianan ordered. The android shook her head but turned to do as asked.

Quickly Aglianan took a shower-changed clothing and went to meet her trainer.
 
“Yes, I am certain that I do not want you to call an escort service and request they send me a dinner companion.” I raised my drink to my mouth but quickly set the glass back down on the table. “And how in space would an Appian mercenary know the contact information for the best escort service in the capitol city?”

“It always pays to have good intelligence Warlord.” The disembodied voice of Surl-Than, the leader of my bodyguard that evening, drifted from across the table “A warrior never knows what information may turn out to be useful.”

“Hmmm…yes, well, be that as it may tonight I wish to have dinner alone…” I glanced across the crowded restaurant and quickly changed my mind. “…with her.”

The Draskan woman who had just glided into the dinning room was clearly noble born. It was apparent in her clothing, her jewelry, and her bearing. The maitre-de escorted her to a secluded section of the restaurant set aside for women of the noble class dining alone. I took a quick glance at her left ear and saw that she was single. I suspected she must be the daughter of one of the local Draskan dignitaries. On any other world she may have been a dignitary herself, but the Emperor seldom appointed Draskan males, let alone Draskan females to important posts on the capitol.

“There is nothing quite as poetic as the female form in motion, is there Warlord? That one would be more attractive if she had proper tusks on her lower jaw.” Surl’s voice floated across the table. I heard a few stifled guffaws from the other bodyguards.

“You are a bunch on uncultured barbarians. The whole lot of you.” I paused as the woman glanced around the room, conveniently providing me with a clear view of her face. There were a few wisps of chestnut colored hair artfully left peeking out from under her vail, but it was her eyes which truly caught my attention. “Look at her eyes Surl…and the pattern of her eye make-up…only women from the western continent can do it properly. I would be willing to wager a month’s pay that her smile is as beautiful as her eyes…”

“Warlord, she seems to be staring at you.”

“Staring? At me?”

“Yes, she just dropped one of those amusing little k’nafa utensils into the k’nafa brewer.”

I looked back toward the woman and saw she was indeed staring at me with a puzzling expression of complete shock. I smiled at her and bowed my head.

“I’m going to have dinner with her. Try not to frighten her, will you? And no sampling of the k’nafa to see if it is poisoned.”

Once the beautiful woman agreed to my company I made my way quickly across the crowded dinning room. I noted the dance floor had been kept clear and began reviewing Draskan dances appropriate for the occasion as I approached her table.

She silently assessed my clothing with practiced ease and I was thankful that I had chosen to wear my formal civilian attire rather than my Fleet uniform. She studied the traditional leather baldric draped over my shoulder intently as if looking for something. It was tastefully decorated in gold with badges displaying my house and clan affiliations. In the tradition of the North I wore no military insignia on the baldric. When she was satisfied with what she saw, the woman smiled warmly at me.

Had I made that wager, I would have won that month’s pay.

“Good evening, Noble Lady. I am D’nel…”

It was just then that the Space Fiend chose to unleash the havoc of the universe in the midst of the dinning room. The havoc in question arrived in the form of a ore hauling hover truck which hurtled through the large windows looking out onto the street and came to a violent stop on top of my former table. Two masked figures ran in through the hole created by the truck and began drawing energy weapons of some sort. One of the Appians dispatched both gunmen with a pair of efficient shots from his own energy weapon. The patrons began screaming and rushing toward exits.

I turned and extended my hand to the Draskan woman before me. “I pledge on my honor to see you safely through this time of danger.”

“I except your pledge.” The woman glanced suspiciously at the areas of distortion converging on us. “I hope whatever that is on our side.”

“Appian bodyguards have unmatched cloaking technology.” I smiled and hoped she did not know cloaked bodyguards violated several laws. On the other hand, driving an ore hauler through a restaurant wall to make way for masked assassins violated several more. “With them around us we will be almost impossible to see.”

“I can see how that might be useful,” the woman said as she glanced around her while we ran toward a rear exit, “although being the only empty spot in a crowded room might not be our best option.”

“It only has to make them hesitate long enough for us to reach the door.” I pointed as two Appians charged through the door leading to the parking complex and dispatched the assassins posted beyond it. My bodyguards quickly filed into an armored limousine and sped off toward the nearest exit.

“I’m sure you have experience with this sort of thing, so please don’t take offense, but shouldn’t we have been in the limo as well?” A casual tip of her head and a slightly raised eyebrow made it more a challenge than a question. I decided I was beginning to like this woman.
 
“The plan is they go off in the armored limo and get shot at – a better class of assassin would have waited until after dinner was through by the way – and then I would ride home in peace and comfort. Normally one of the bodyguards would ride with me but as you can see there is only room for two.” I motioned toward my pride and joy which had been hidden away behind the limo. The woman, I really needed to ask her name, required a moment to register what she was seeing.

“Is that a Cyclone GX?” She turned and gripped my forearm tightly with one hand. I felt her shivering and realized with a start she would have been forced to leave her warmer clothing in the restaurant. “I can’t believe you own a Cyclone…”

“This is the last one they built, and the cabin should still be warm.” I opened the passenger side door for her and bowed slightly at the waist. “After you, Lady…”

“Forgive me, I am Lady P’Mela…”

A small projectile ricocheted off the wall near where we stood. We both turned and saw a small group of armed individuals running towards us. One of them turned and beckoned toward someone out of our line of sight. “We found her! Over here!”

P’Mela and I dove into the Cyclone, the interior of which was in fact still pleasantly warm, and I quickly keyed in the start up sequence. There was a brief thrumming sound as the anti-grav panels powered up. When I felt the parking skids retract I accelerated toward the nearest exit.

“How very unconventional of you, P’Mela, to bring your own assassins to dinner.” I gave P’Mela a quick glance to see if she had fastened her safety harness. Not only was the harness fastened, but she actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Surprise!” She said with a cheery grin. Her grin faded though as a barrage of projectiles glanced ineffectively off the rear of the Cyclone. I turned down the main street just as the first group of assassins dislodged the ore hauler from the restaurant. The driver of the hauler spotted me and lurched his vehicle around to begin pursuit. The second group of assassins emerged from the parking structure and clambered into a waiting armored limousine. P’Mela’s voice took on an edge of concern. “Please tell me you have a Plan B.”

“I do.” I tapped my fingers across the central control console to disengage the standard safeties and transmit a distress call to my armored limo. The display panel showed the Appians were several blocks away being pursued by another vehicle. There should have been security craft of all sorts converging on the area, but whoever had hired the assassins must have made liberal use of bribe money. I gave P’Mela a lopsided grin. “We drive very quickly while making lots of sharp turns and hope my bodyguards get here before those assassins kill us.”

“That’s Plan B?” P’Mela looked back toward the ore hauler and the armored limo that were somehow managing to maintain the distance from us. The gunmen in the limo were attempting to shoot around the ore hauler with energy weapons now, but the hauler kept getting in their way. The assassins in the hauler, thinking they were the ones under attack, began returning fire with their own energy weapons. On the bright side they were not gaining and they were not shooting at us for the time being. P’Mela did not seem to happy with the bright side. “You might want to wait a while before submitting that application for Fleet Warmaster Admiral.”

“Perhaps…” I made a hard turn into a forested park and swerved to avoid a copse of inconveniently planted trees. The ore hauler simply smashed through them. I hated cheaters. “You may take comfort in knowing that I never lost a race on the Glass Sea.”

“I would but…” P’Mela held her breath as I swerved the Cyclone into a canal and dove under a pedestrian overpass. The ore hauler turned wide and smashed through a few more trees. The limo came in over the bridge and skipped across the surface of the water behind us before the driver brought it under control again. Beams of energy stabbed wildly around us as the gunners shot blindly through the spray of water in our wake. I pulled the Cyclone up out of the canal and rolled it on its side as we shot through a stone arch straddling the broad sidewalk of the park. The limo was forced to make a wider turn and the driver strained to get back into a position behind us. I rolled the Cyclone to the right and went through another arch to return the streets. The ore hauler crashed through the park fence and jostled the limo into a line of parked vehicles along the side of the street. The limo braked sharply and attempted to rise above the vehicles but struck a glancing blow just as one of the gunmen on the hauler scored a hit on one of the now exposed anti-grav panels on the underside of the limo. The damaged vehicle flipped into a fiery cartwheel before smashing into the side of an office building. P’Mela took up her sentence where she left off. “…everyone knows lava surfers are insane!”

The ore hauler sped after us alone with superheated jets of steaming coolant streaming out from several places along the engine compartment. The engine would fail before long which gave me some hope. Then someone in the back of the hauler launched a rocket at us. I swerved and the rocket sped past to explode against a highway overpass. P’Mela uttered a string of truly impressive Draskan curses.

“Look! There’s another park with bigger trees!” She slapped my shoulder with one hand and pointed through the windshield with the other. “Let’s see them try to smash through those!”

“You know…” I struggled with the controls of the Cyclone for a moment as the emergency steering thrusters pivoted the craft around toward the park. “I am really beginning to like you P’Mela…”

“Then please don’t hit any trees.” In my peripheral vision I saw her tense up as I took the Cyclone through an improvised slalom course between the immense trees.

Energy beams and rockets danced with us beneath the canopy but none were close enough for much concern. We crashed through an annoyingly tall shrub of some sort and burst out onto the marshy plain surrounding the city. I tried to pull the Cyclone into a tight turn that would bring us back into the forest but was unable to do so before the ore hauler crashed out onto plain like an enraged demon. I banked left and we raced on parallel courses as the gunmen on the hauler opened fire.

Suddenly an armored limo crashed down onto the top of the hauler and forced the larger vehicle’s nose into the soft earth. The hauler somersaulted onto to its back and blossomed into flame as one of the rockets detonated inside the bed. The limo sped away from the explosion and took up a position along side us. Surl-Than’s double jawed Appian face grinned out from one of the rear windows and he gave P’Mela a jaunty wave.

“Appian bodyguards are extremely useful people to have around, aren’t they?” P’Mela said as she waved cheerfully back to him.

“Yes, they are. I think it would be best if we returned to my residence for the time being. I still owe you a dinner after all.”

“I think I would like that.” P’Mela said with a small smile that could have meant anything...or nothing at all.
 
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Once we reached the secluded house I had rented along the shore the Appians faded discreetly into the background to give us a semblance of privacy. I imagined at least one of them was still standing cloaked somewhere in the room. P’Mela insisted on preparing a formal k’nafa service for us while I prepared the meal.

I chose a traditional dinner from my home province that I doubted she would have had the opportunity to sample before. It was a simple dish of chopped fowl with nons and minced garl in a spicy milk and yr’ruc sauce served over a bed of rice. P’Mela chose the perfect blend of k’nafa to go with the meal and the dinner went quite well until P’Mela served the last cup of k’nafa.

“Weapon!” The Appian guard materialized and leapt across the room before the last echoes of his shout fully died down. He wrapped one powerful arm around P’Mela, pinning her to his side, and slid the onyx tipped hairpin from her hair. I watched in wide eyed horror as the veil drifted down to the floor and more Appians charged into the dining room.

“Release her you fool!” I stepped forward and scooped the veil off the floor as my orders were obeyed. P’Mela was understandably shaken by event and I hastened to sooth her. “Forgive me Noble lady. Appian women have no hair so my bodyguard acted without knowing the insult he would commit against you.”

“We must allow for cultural differences, mustn’t we?” Her face and voice betrayed an inner turmoil, but she calmly turned to the guard who had done what only a Draskan woman’s husband was permitted to do. “This man’s loyalty and dedication are to be commended, but I do not think we would be suitable as husband wife. No doubt he would prefer a woman with tusks.”

“My apologies Lady…” the guard sheepishly held out the hair pin which P’Mela calmly took from him.

“Apology accepted. It has been a tense night for us all.” P’Mela turned and smiled at me to show she truly had taken no offense. Her long chestnut colored unraveled from its braid as she did so drawing my attention once again to how beautiful a woman she was.

“Leave us now so I may offer my apologies to the Lady P’Mela.” I motioned the guards from the room. Once the closed the door I turned to P’Mela and found myself staring into her pale blue eyes. It was at that moment that we both decided what would happen next.

In the privacy of a sleeping chamber I ran my fingers through her soft hair and cradled the back of her head in my hand. I felt her arms on my back as I guided her closer to kiss her softly on the lips. I kissed her again on the cheek, on her neck as she tipped her head to one side. P’Mela sighed softly, her breath hot against my skin, and I carefully slid her chemise off her as she worked to unfasten my formal robe. We did not rush as we undressed each other, but savored each moment allowing the anticipation to build. We kissed again, exchanging gentle caresses as we held each other close. P’Mela rested her head against my shoulder and her long hair fell across her face to brush enticingly against me. I brushed it aside with my finger tips and kissed the corner of her eye. She looked up at me and returned my kiss with one of her own. At last we slid onto the soft cushions of the bed, every touch of bare skin against bare skin bringing new sensations of pleasure for both of us. We united in the way of Draskan men and women and through the waves of pleasure coursing through me for a moment I sensed her true self.

For a moment, so fleeting I could not be sure it was even real, I sensed something very wrong.

The thought was pushed from my mind as our mutual passion and desire increased in tempo. It was said that no species could compare in love with the Copani, but the Draskans, with our passions burning as fiercely as the sands of our desert homeworld surely came in a close second. Any thoughts of the Copani were lost as well as P’Mela shifted slightly and brought on a renewed wave of passion.

We both awoke early the next morning, surprising given our lack of sleep, and spent a pleasant time together over a traditional Draskan breakfast. The Appians insisted on making m’kaa for her in an attempt to make up for the night before. As fate would have it we both had appointments early that same morning. We agreed to meet for dinner again that evening and several of my bodyguards took her home as I prepared myself to meet the new Chief of Staff.

“Any intelligence on who the new Chief of Staff is Surl?” I asked as I made minute adjustments to my uniform.

“None, Warlord.” Surl frowned in the frighteningly Appian way as he read through the morning reports. “The upper echelons of the Empire seem to be showing signs of increasing desperation, however. Last night’s incident was hardly unique.”

“No wonder this new Chief of Staff is keeping such a low profile.” I laughed as Surl and I climbed into the Cyclone. “No doubt he is some fat sweaty old politician who spends his days hiding behind his desk.”

“No doubt.” Surl sighed dramatically. “I suppose then I will have to wait in the reception area with whatever large, unshaven barbarian is posing as his receptionist.”

“Just smile politely and I am sure you will be fine.”
 
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“This is not necessary!” I spoke too harshly to the four Appies as they formed a tight wall around me, leading me from the limo to the front door of my lakeside house. As I passed my hand over the security reader, the front door popped open. I repeated “This is not necessary!” when two of the Appies quickly pushed past me to the inside. The other two maintained their very close positions next to me, waiting for the clearance. I could smell the natural musk of their skin. Pungent! I smiled thinking about D’Nel and how he could stand it constantly around him, assaulting his sense of smell. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason I kept smiling. I was still feeling the emotions of the night, all of them. And though I was trying to concentrate on what today would hold for me, my mind kept rushing forward to this evening, and what it promised.

As soon as the first two Appies gave the clearance, the two guarding me just inside the door, bowed slightly and withdrew a few paces. Soon the two searching the house joined us at the front door. The young leader said seriously “I will register your complaint of our efficiency with D’Nel Ghar.” I saw the double jaw clicking, and I smiled despite myself. They were quite interesting individuals and I could see their preference for humor. I bowed slightly to the young leader and then as seriously as I could, I said “When you relay my complaint, would you also tell him that P’Mela says ‘You sure know how to show a woman a good time!’?” I thought my attempt at humor had gone over well as I heard the soft clucking sounds of the other three. But the young leader bowed deeply to me and as he straightened, I noticed that he seemed especially serious. He said “It is important on my world for the male to satisfy the female by being both virile and energetic. I am most honored, Noble Lady, that our Warlord has pleased you.”

The term Warlord registered with me despite the fact that I was blushing in embarrassment. My attempt at humor had just blown up in my face. It seemed that I was so off-balance the last day that I was forgetting my training and experience. I was acting more like some girl right out of the military academy than a warrior accustomed to inter-species contact. I forced myself to straighten and looked him straight in the eye. “My sincere thanks to you and your men, and to your Warlord. You saved my life last night, and you have provided me with efficient and honorable services today.” The four withdrew to outside the house while I prepared for work.

I was already running behind schedule. Quickly I showered and dressed in one of my new uniforms. I hated the damned things! The material itched, the fit was too tight for fighting, the collar too stiff for comfort. As I repeatedly cursed the uniform from top to bottom, I gathered the datalinks from the small table where I had abandoned them the afternoon before. Stuffing them in my jacket pocket, I gathered my other few possessions needed for the office, straightened and then opened my door. My special Appies closed in around me and escorted me to the limo. Once inside, they slipped into the front and rear escort vehicles. My little procession was off, weaving its way quickly through the capitol city.

In retrospect, I should have used the time to quickly review the datalinks and find out about my new staff. But frankly, I was going to be meeting them within an hour anyway. My mind was focused on two issues - and sickeningly I felt they were closely related: The assassination attempt and long chase of the previous evening; and Te’Zsing’s lack of contact with me.

I shook my head as I remembered the old quote “Old soldiers never die, they just disappear on Ch’chockpi.” The assassins had screamed “We found her!” They had been after me not D’Nel. Why me? I had been working solitary for 700 years. How could I have made enemies this far inside Empire boundaries? And there were no Security craft or personnel during the entire chase or fighting. At a bare minimum, there should have been some type of transportation enforcers called in due to the crashing vehicles!

Then a sickening thought occurred to me. What if the entire thing was some kind of set-up? The appearance of D’Nel and his Appies was convenient. He came in and just happened to pick me in a crowded restaurant and then the big play - the score - the assassination attempt - the wild escape in the Cyclone. My head fell back against the seat rest. I couldn’t believe I had been so easily manipulated. Of course! D’Nel, The Warlord had to be some kind of political. He had played me like a first year student. Who better to manipulate or blackmail than the new Chief of Staff? DAMN!

My other problem was Te’Zsing. Why hadn’t he intervened and rescued me? That was one of the most important protocols issued for this trip. He was to keep monitoring me constantly. If I was in any danger, he was supposed to lock onto me, and get me out and to safety. Yet he had not communicated once since I left him. I noticed my hands shaking, and my breath was shallow. I had not been without Te’Zsing in 700 years. I felt totally alone, abandoned.
 
I arrived safely at Command Headquarters and was once again “escorted” by the Appies to the door. But, of course, they were stopped by Sonjon Security. Thankfully, I escaped inside and stopped in the first privacy room I passed. I washed my face with cold water several times until I got myself back into mental control. My first action had to be contact with Te’Zsing. Renewed, I left the privacy room and ran into P’Aylie. She was pacing but smiled brightly as soon as she saw me. I noticed that she gave me the Draksan greeting, not the Sonjon. She stepped into pace with me, talking swiftly and softly in Draksani. It was not a language spoken off Draksa because of its inherent complexities. As we walked quickly to Shahidan’s office to receive my official promotion, she told me the disturbing things she had discovered over the course of the evening and morning.

This woman was good! She was going to be a good one to watch and listen for me. Working late the previous night, getting things ready for my arrival and meetings today, she had started hearing hushed rumors. Having been assigned here for 8 cycles, she knew everyone and knew who to quiz, who to chat with, who to run into accidently over the m’caa makers. Astoundingly, she was able to piece together a disturbing report of the previous night.

Here in the capitol city, there had been 11 assassination attempts. Ten were successful. When she heard rumors that one attempt was made at a Draksan restaurant, she had instinctively worried about me and had repeatedly tried to contact me at home. I could tell that she was genuinely relieved to see me. “WarMaster General, what is going on?” was her last question as we arrived at Shahidan’s office. I smiled at her and quietly said “I don’t know. But we’ll find out together. Now, please honor me by participating in my promotion ceremony.”

I don’t remember hearing much of the ceremony, my mind was on Te’Zsing and how I was going to contact him. My attention refocused on the ceremony when Aik Haw handed P’Aylie the ceremonial epaulettes to attach to my uniform and then he bestowed the ceremonial long knife. I stumbled over my acceptance and saw him flinch several times, but there was no one I really knew in the room and thus I didn’t care. Not much anyway. P’Aylie left my side and returned to a seat nearby and I took my place as Chief of Staff next to Aik Haw, the Empire’s youngest Shahidan in its history.

As I turned to stand beside him, I knew we were supposed to conduct three subordinate promotions. The first one was to be the new Fleet WarMaster Admiral. When I heard Aik Haw called D’Nel Ghar forward, my head snapped up. I was looking straight into the quicksilver blue eyes of my lover from the night before. DAMN! This was not good.

D’Nel’s eyes seem to twinkle in mischief and I wondered if he had known the night before. This certainly made my possible theories about him even more dangerous. After all, the next level promotion for him would be to my new job. I was getting a Draksan migraine thinking about the possible conspiracies within conspiracies. Suddenly I was remembering why I enjoyed working solitary in the far reaches of space.

But the two of us maintained our military bearing and said all the correct phrases. When it was time to pin on the ceremonial epaulettes, Aik Haw asked who his witness was to be. D’Nel said neutrally “If the Chief of Staff would be so kind as to honor me, sir. I have no one else.” His eyes locked on mine. His eyes sparkled! My hands shook as I quickly responded but I dropped the first epaulette and almost dropped the second. As I focused on pinning the damned things on his uniform, he said softly, so no one could hear him but me “What’s for dinner tonight?” I ignored his question as Aik Haw began the chant to bestow D’Nel’s ceremonial long knife. Again, he whispered very softly so only I could hear him “Do you have a Reclinare in your office?” I think I smiled.
 
As soon as the last promotion was complete, I nearly ran for nearest exit. I had to contact Te’Zsing. Of course, I didn’t actually run, just walked in a very determined manner until Shahidan called my name. Unfortunately, when I looked back to answer him, he had D’Nel with him and motioning me towards his office. I avoided the quicksilver eyes and said “Shahidan, If I could have a moment of your time, sir?” Another reason I hated working inside the Empire - military correctness! As we left D’Nel standing behind, hopefully out of hearing range, I said “Aik, I need a little time this morning. I have been trying to contact my ship, and unable to raise him.....it. Somethi....”

“P’Mela, it should be nearly dismantled by now. I ordered it to recycling. Besides, you’re getting the second prototype of new ships. It should be off assembly at Raegel Kentaurus spacedock within days.”

“WHAT?” I know my voice had come out far too loud and strong. I heard D’Nel clear his throat and he stepped over a few steps to be in my peripheral vision. I saw him subtly shake his head “no”. Besides, the look of shock registered on Aik Haw’s face. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that....the ship has been with me for 700 years. It is like my home.” I saw the stubborn look cross Aik’s face and knew that this was going to be a career ender for me.

“The ship will be dismantled precisely because it is over 700 years old! The Shahidan’s Chief of Staff requires one of the newer ships. Subject is closed.” he started to walk off and I reached for his arm and gripped it. And though I could see D’Nel shaking his head and mouthing the word “NO!”, I launched into my reasons. But one of the advantages of having known Aik Haw since our military days and having served as his Executive Officer for 6 years, I knew his sentimental buttons very well, and I played them.

“Remember P Cygni Rebellion? The Admiral ordered the two of us to do the low orbit reconnaissance flights. He gave us the newest flyers in the fleet but you refused. Do you remember why? Do you remember your arguments as to why you wanted our old ship? I claim the same reasons now, Aik. Please don’t deny me this.” I released his arm and then stood straight, waiting for the inevitable.

“DAMN! You don’t play fair, WarMaster General.” Aik smiled. Then he quickly issued the order into his communicator to his office to immediately belay the recycle order to the shipyards. Then softly just to me, he added “Just don’t use the damned thing against me for any reason. I also remember the computer upgrades to our P Cygni ship. The ones we made quietly, against all protocols. Just, I don’t want to know if you’ve done this to that feeble old ship!” He cocked his head, indicating for me to take the time I needed. I didn’t wait around for him to change his mind.

As I hurried towards my office for some privacy in contacting Te’Zsing, D’Nel caught up with me easily. “What’s so great about a 700 year old ship?” I should have known he’d hear. I often forgot about Draksans superior hearing - a result of evolution on a desert planet. A hunter can hear the soft movement of prey over the sounds of a sand storm, or so they would have you believe. But I didn’t answer him. I was trying to chill him out but he easily kept up with me, the longer legs of a male Draksan!

He had the arrogance to follow me into my office and shut the door behind him. I started the communication link to Te’Zsing and then without looking up, I said “I need some privacy Admiral.”

“Would the WarMaster General please answer my question first?” he smarted back.

“My ship has become like a home to me. My only companion in 700 years. He...it watches and listens, protects me. During the assassination attempt last night, his protocols should have activated even at the shipyards, and he should have locked onto me, getting me to safety.” Why I was suddenly explaining I wasn’t sure. As Te’Zsing’s voice suddenly answered me, I smiled. “A moment Te’Zsing....excuse me Admiral!” I snapped as I looked up.

He was watching me curiously and I realized he had caught the references to Te’Zsing as a “he”. Then he smiled and as he opened the door to leave, he said softly “Actually, WarMaster General, I was wondering if you were going to answer my other question. What is for dinner tonight?” But then he stopped half way in and out of the door and added even softer “The Cyclone is fitted with a localized Appie jamming device to prevent things like tracking devices, or remote-controlled bombs, from being used on it. No doubt that would have given Te'Zsing some trouble!”

As soon as D’Nel closed the door and I turned my attention back to the special communication, Te’Zsing answered in his most sarcastic voice “And the fact that my engines had been cut off my hull gave me some trouble, I might add!” I laughed out loud. It was so good to hear him. “Who is that arrogant male?” asked Te’Zsing even more sarcastically. I laughed again. Even if he was in full jealousy mode, it was pure relief to hear him. My hands finally had stopped shaking.
 
Zak was pacing on the flight deck, waiting for the Boro’Sug, and thinking about her training. It had to be flawless because she had to, at the end of her training, be able to train the next group along with him, they the next group, and so on. There are 12 training facilities on board and they must be utilized continuously. There was entire complement of Training Androids to be used, but actual flight training was to be handled by Copani Trained Pilots.

He heard her approaching and turned and waited for her. She entered the room, stopped a respectable distance and gave the appropriate greeting for a superior officer. He smiled inside, knowing how difficult that had probably been for her, but her resemblance to P'Mela was amazing and discomfiting as well.

“Well Boro’Sug Galadstin, are you sufficiently rested.” She nods, not sure what her response should be, considering who he was and who she was. “Boro’Sug, your Demon training begins shortly so let me outline what we will be doing. Unlike the remaining pilots, I will conduct your training personally.”

He turned to the android, and said, “Ontanon, bring the device.”

Ontanon brought a small case and opened it, revealing a small, almost flat, disk resting on a piece of soft material. Ontanon took it out and handed it to Zak, who then stepped up to Aglianan and pressed it against her temple. She felt warmth, then the slight pain of the tendrils as they entered her skull and attached themselves. Zak watched her and she had the normal reaction to the device, nothing severe, as he feared she might have had.

“The device is part of the training process. Stylian knows the way to the Demon training device. It will take you there and give you some rudimentary instructions. Follow them closely, and pay attention to what is happening inside the trainer. We have much to accomplish in too short a time. I want you to be able to fly the Demon trainer in two days, sooner if possible. Now go, I will be along shortly.” As she left, he watched her, a faint stirring of familiar memories passing fleetingly through his head.

“Ontanon, have the Med Section prepare for the DNA insertion. It will be done after we eat tonight. Were the modifications made as I ordered?” The android answered him and left and Zak headed for the training capsule. When he entered the large room with the twelve training modules, he went to the one assigned to her and checked the readouts. Turning to Stylian, he told it, “You know her favorite foods. Good. You will prepare a full meal for her and myself, to be eaten after training is completed for the day.” Stylian acknowledged the order and stepped to the rear of the chamber.

Zak keyed the microphone and spoke to Aglianan, “ Are you learning the instruments Boro’Sug?” Aglianan answered him, “ Yes, Boro’Ank, I believe I am.” Zak answered her, “Good. Now, I will give you a while longer and then we’ll quiz you.” He nodded to the android that had plugged into the board and was now running a series of tests to determine if she had begun to understand the controls. She did remarkably well for someone who had never seen the ship or it’s controls before. It took her almost until the evening meal to master the Control Console. “Aglianan, you may exit when you find the exit control. Later, about the time Zak’s stomach began to protest it’s hunger, the hatch in the training simulator opened and Aglianan emerged, a little worse for wear, but smiling at her triumph. (Unfamiliar with the language, she had seen the small stud with the label “Exit” many times and did not know what it meant, strictly lack of knowledge, nothing else.)

As they sat and ate all of her favorites, she went back over her day, from the familiarization of the controls to finally locating the exit button. When he explained what it meant, she began to laugh, big deep laughs that were contagious. He hadn’t laughed since P'Mela had left and this was such a relief he found he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop. Finally they stopped, reluctantly so for him.

He told her that they would be flying the Demon trainer tomorrow but would like her to spend time in the flight trainer, practicing take off’s and landings, and some easy maneuvering. She nodded at this and answered, “I will go from here , highness, and begin.” Her mood deflated at the scowl on his face, until he explained, “No, you won't have the opportunity to return to the trainers because you’ll be escorted to the Med Section, where your DNA sequenced alternate identity will be inserted. Once that’s been done you’ll be taken back to your quarters. I suggest comfortable clothing because then I will come to your quarters to begin your instruction so that you will have the ability to change identify at will.” He stood then and bowed his head; a sign of respect.
 
Aglianan's meditation

Aglianan sat in her quarters meditating, not on the training she had gone through, or what was to come in the near future, but the past was what seemed to invade her meditation, maybe to warn her of dangers yet to come.

She closed her eyes again and went over her training today, going over in her mind all she had learned today, the controls and commands. She couldn’t wait to fly the training Demon. She would show them why she and her Squadron were so highly regarded, or were at one time. One of the things that had always come easy to Aglianan was technique, especially when it involved combat. She had the uncanny ability to access a situation and deploy her fighters effectively. She had had the ability to learn and absorb much faster than most Copani.

She had heard rumors of the ability to shape shift among certain Copani but had always just considered it unfounded rumors. Well, it obviously wasn’t an unfounded rumor since she had seen the Boro’Ank once in his other form. She was curious about what she would look like in her alternate persona. She would never admit it, to anyone but, for just a moment, she had been frightened when she was put back into the stasis chamber after the insertion procedure.

When she had finished meditating she opened her eyes, stretched and remembered how much effort it had been for her to greet the Boro’Ank as he had ordered. She laughed to herself and thought, “Some things are definitely going to take time to get used to.” Still, she found it strange that the First Royal Prince would hide his rank, but it was surely to avoid identity if he was captured. If the enemy knew they had captured the First Royal Prince of Copan, they would assuredly win the war. Much, much better that they thought they’d captured a Boro’Ank.

She took a vibro shower and continued to study the remaining data crystals. While she was viewing the last crystal, Stylian entered and told her that Boro’Ank Zakrianan was on his way to her quarters.

”How would Boro’Ank know I’m ready? “ she asked Stylian.
”I stand in direct contact with Ontanon, Boro’Ank Zakrianan’s personal android. “ Stylian replied.
”Do you tell him everything I do?” Aglianan asked, getting a little angry.
”Yes Boro’Sug, until you instruct me otherwise” Stylian answered.

Aglianan thought for a moment, and then said, “For now it is okay Stylian, but once I’m fully up to date some things will have to change. You can keep Ontanon informed of my activities, but you don’t need to tell him everything, unless there is an emergency.”

“Yes, Boro’Sug, but I need an exact time frame to incorporate this into my system“ Stylian replied.

” I’ll let you know when to incorporate the new instructions,” Aglianan smiled
“I found a new subroutine for you,” Aglianan said, and gave a data crystal to Stylian. ”Access file “voice” and do as instructed,” she said to Stylian.

Stylian plugged the data crystal into it’s outlet and absorbed the subroutine.
“Have you installed the new subroutine? “ Aglianan asked
”Yes, Boro’Sug.” Aglianan immediately noticed the change in Stylian’s voice.
The new subroutine was designed to make an androids voice less “metallic” and more able to talk softly and possible signs of emotion.
Stylian looked at the door “Boro’Ank has arrived”
Aglianan stood up when the door opened and greeted him in the appropriate way.
 
P’Mela spent a couple of hours ensuring that Te’Zsing was getting repaired according to Shahidan’s instructions. Surprisingly, Aik’s instructions to the Raegel Ketaurus spaceport included upgrading the jump engines to the newest technology, rather than just reinstalling the outdated ones! But that meant that Te’Zsing’s primary and secondary hulls needed a superstructure reinforcement to withstand the greater forces which would be straining the tiny ship. It also meant that Te’Zsing, once retrofitted, would be just as fast as anything in the fleet. And more importantly to P’Mela, the newer time dilation jump technology no longer required submersion in the chemical/saline and the post jump dementia. During their call together, they had both reassured the other that their relationship was foremost in each of their minds.

Once Te’Zsing contact had been restored, she seemed more relaxed and immediately turned her attention to the assassination attempt on her life. That in turn made her focus on all the successful assassinations last night. Upon request, her assistant brought her the datalinks on the victims and she began to review. The information was uncomfortable and P’Mela unconsciously shed her uniform jacket to the standard military shirt underneath. Near the end of the day shift, she asked P’Aylie to locate the Fleet WarMaster Admiral and tell him to report to her office.

He never did! In fact, he never returned any commpages. The bio-scan security system showed him playing indoor Miniature WarBall* in the large gymnasium underneath the headquarters building. She took the datalink file she had copied and sought out the Admiral in the gym.

When she got there, he was wearing only gym shorts and had worked himself into a heavy sweat. “Good evening, D’Nel. Strict exercise regimen, I see.”

Towel drying and drinking several bottles of water, he answered “Helps me think. How are you this evening?” Even though she earlier had suspected he was behind her own assassination attempt, instincts told her otherwise and she showed him the data.

“There were 12, not 11, assassination attempts last night. Four were females: myself, a Prime Justice from Legal Directorate specializing in Civil Disobedience, a Cultural Attache from the Ambassadorial Directorate for a fairly recent world added to the empire, and the Director of Banking from the Financial Directorate. The eight males were: Director of Instellar Stock Exchange from the Financial Directorate, an ensign from the COO’s “Housing and Relocation” branch of the Military Directorate, and....this is most interesting....six Assistant Directors of various branches within the Admin & Operations Directorate.”

P’Mela thought she’d be in for a long wait as he digested the information. He pulled on his shirt and slacks right over his gym shorts and said “We don’t need to talk here. Over dinner as planned.” His eyes seemed darker than usual as he stared into hers as if waiting for some signal.

“Sure. My place in two hours then.” P’Mela said softly and started to leave. But he reached for her hands and pulled her to him. To security cameras it would have looked like he was kissing her neck but he whispered “Not 12 assassinations. 13! And the sex of the victim is only important in the thirteenth victim, the Madame of an Escort Service here in capitol city.”

Then he actually did kiss her neck in several places as she thought for several moments and then said astonished “Damn, I missed it. I need to look at the Directorate’s involved, not the victim themselves.”

“Yes.” is all he said. “And you have a new Appian security detail. Waiting on you to leave the building after work. Round the clock for you and your home.” As P’Mela started to shake her head “NO!” D’Nel cradled her face in his hands and said “They have requested the duty after their males insulted you. Don’t dishonor them. Besides, you need the protection. The assassins were not successful the first time. And I checked. Te’Zsing will not be back to full duty for several more days. You need me and the Appians!” He announced the last sentence a little more forcefully than he had the others.

“Yes I accept your kindness and theirs. In two hours at my house for dinner?” P’Mela asked. As he kissed her lips lightly, the thought of actually cooking wasn’t so bad! She wondered if the kiss was a continuation for the benefit of the security cameras that were monitoring them?



*WarBall introduced by Carmichael a page or so back. Incorporate here without permission and I can change name if preferred by CM.
 
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As P'Mela walks back into her office, P'Aylie is updating the Tactical Holo Display with the lastest deployments. Her eyes slide over the icons floating in the THD and then her mental attention is back on the assassination data consuming her.

There is only one explanation for that many assassinations in one night - coup. And D'Nel mentioned that he thought there was another victim! Even though P'Mela officially out ranks him, he is subjected to far more intelligence information than she. It is part of the "reasonal deniability" that every government tries to maintain. Certain people know certain things which are kept from others. That way there is some deniability at higher ranks and echelons, or is there?

As P'Aylie exits the office, P'Mela's eyes sweep over the THD again before closing it for the day and then back down to her personal datalink. But then it occurs like a flash. The deployments! They are too tightly clustered. She recalls the THD and her pale blue eyes take it in, every detail, every ship and its class. WHY? Why are they deployed in such a manner?
 
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Zack stepped into her cabin in his human persona, which surprised Aglianan because, she had never seen him this way. He saw the look in her eyes and smiled.

“Please, Boro’Sug, sit and relax and I will explain what we are about to do.”

She sat carefully, not sure what to expect, but trusting him enough to eventually relax. When Zack saw her relax, he began to speak, softly and unhurried, wanting to make sure she understood what to expect.

“I want you to call me Zack, especially when I am in this persona. You will need to get used to it, which I will explain in a moment. I will begin calling you Aglianan, which you must get used to responding to.”

She nodded, beginning to feel uncomfortable in calling him by this too familiar name.

“You have been injected with a modified human DNA String, this will allow you to become human, in all but skin color. I use Diet Barq’s to maintain human coloring, when I so desire and you will need to discover which works best for you. It will be necessary for us to be able to walk unnoticed on the planet’s surface, to be able mix, buy supplies, whatever and whenever it becomes necessary.”

She was taking all this in, trying to absorb what he was saying and trying to see how it fit into their current situation.

“This process is also used on all planets that we visit. We can, and do, become a native of the planet and can achieve everything a member of the planets race can.”

He paused and asked if she had any questions of him and she replied no, not at this time.

“Then it’s time to learn how to make the transition from Copani to human. “

He stood then, indicated she should also, and then explained that he would be entering her mind and placing a sequence of commands that would be used to effect her transition to and from the human persona. Zack entered her mind and was out again so quickly that Aglianan was still waiting for him to do what ever it was he was going to do to her.

“It is done Aglianan, you may open your eyes.”

When she did, she saw no difference and said as much. He told her the command to change her appearance and she thought it, felt an odd sensation and her perspective changed. She looked down and she saw her body as a human. Zack held out his hand and took her to a mirror. What she saw amazed her. Facing her from the mirror was obviously a female human. She had seen them and recognized herself as a human in the mirror. She had longish dark hair, blue eyes, two largish mammary’s, and more hair below. Turning sideways to the mirror, she examined more of herself.

Then she asked who this human was, and he told her truthfully; it was P’Mela aged to what Aglianan’s age was at this time. Aglianan was unsure of herself in this body, much less sure after she realized that she was becoming the Boro’Ank’s obsession.
 
Zak was on the hangar deck running again when he was alerted to an incoming message from Te'Zsing. He never broke stride, only continued to run to his control room where he slipped into his recliner and hooked into the ship. The message was sent by Te'Zsing shortly after their arrival at Ch’chockpi Spaceport:

"Have arrived Sonjon homeworld. Boro'Ches has departed for planetside destination. Will monitor her at all times in accordance with your instructions.

Technicians arrived as you suspected to download my computer core. Have allowed them to download only their Sonjon technology. The Copani systems are still encrypted and safe as is my personality matrix. My regards in this matter.

One problem, however. These sons-of-bitches are lasering my engine nacelles off my hull. I think I am in trouble! I believe they intend to scrap me! I will engage auxillary power source only as a last resort, ZakRianan.

In accordance with instructions given by Boro'Ches P'Mela upon her departure for planetside, she requests that you read a special message file she left for you. File Code: 3987ZR232398LadyTchi789237232AZ.

Regards
Te'Zsing

Zak found and opened the special message file. She had recorded it for him the morning after they had mated and before she left for Sonjon space. She was still in her Copani form and spoke softly in their native chanting. It was a love letter telling him the things she had been unable to say face to face before she left. Zak read it slowly, letting himself merge into her Copani eyes. Then replayed it....then replayed it again.....

Meanwhile, back on Ch’chockpi in her Chief of Staff's office, P'Mela was staring at the THD, at the deployment of Sonjon warships....
 
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Less than 12 hours after receiving the first transmission from Te'Zsing, a second marked URGENT arrived:

Boro’Ank ZakRianan,
I have lost contact with P'Mela during an explosion and I believe an assassination attempt on her. I was monitoring her movement up until the time she arrived in the restaurant. There were so many Draksan female signatures I was having interference and finally isolated her only moments before she was approached by another person, scan showed male Draksan. Then moments later, explosions started. I was able to see that she and the male leading her got outside to a vehichle through massive small armaments fire. Once inside the vehichle I lost track of her. I believe she was inside some type of unknown cloaked vehicle.

I tried to get to her, Boro'Ank. I was moored by docking clamps and both jump engine nacelles had been lasered off me. The only way to get to her would have been to engage the auxillary power source you installed. To have done so would have opened the vortex on top of the spaceport and would have killed everyone on board. According to P'Mela's primary instructions on all missions is absolutely no loss of innocent life to save hers. There are many children on board the spaceport.

I have failed her. I was unable to override my conscience in this matter to engage the auxillary powersource to rescue her. However, in recalculating I find that even with the power source I would not have been able to arrive planetside in the few minutes needed to locate and save her.

I will continue my scans for her and keep you apprised.

Regretfully
Te'Zsing

Of course, by the time the message was received by Zak, P'Mela was already on her way to dinner with D'Nel at the conclusion of first day duties. With many questions on her mind about ship deployments within the empire.
 
Zak had sent a burst message to Te'Zsing and settled down to read P'Mela's message file. When he opened the file he was staring into P’Mela’s large eyes. She was chanting a love letter to him, things that she was unable to say to him when she left. He finished reading it and said, “Repeat, all senses”.

As the file restarted the com lights penetrated all the way into his vision, hearing, tactile, smell, taste and psychosynopt senses. It was as if she was there sitting before him, her hands in his, her freshly bathed and scented body but a few inches from him, the deep pools of her eyes swallowing him whole. As he listened to her he felt his greatest fears slide away, to be replaced by abject joy, and then it was done.

“Repeat, all senses.” Again she was there with him, but it was different, he kissed her, and tasted her sweet lips this time, again dropping into her beautiful eyes, her aromas invading his sense of smell and he again felt her hands in his.

“Repeat, all senses.” This one last time he was laid out on his lounge, and she said the words again, but he felt her body molded to his, her arms about his waist, her breath exhaling against his neck, the aroma of her body lotions wafting up to him. And it finished.

“Save, encrypt, Zakrianan special lock.

He stood, looking at the time and realized that almost 3 ½ hours had passed. He stood, went to the sonic shower, and smiled all the way there. Ontanon came to the door and told him that Boro’Sug Aglianan was ready for their first flight. He told Ontanon to get her to the flight deck and get her to flight check the Training Demon. When he came to the flight deck, he was doing the Copani equivalent of whistling as many different tunes as he could. Aglianan thought to herself that this was not the same man she left a few hours ago. He was dressed in a flight uniform, as she was, but he thought that it sure looked better on her than it did on him.

“Boro’Sug, you will take the front seat, I will take the rear on this flight. This is as much a test of the simulators as it is your capabilities.” They climbed aboard, strapped in and Zak pushed the “Initial Train” button and knew that the next several minutes would be taken up with the ship drilling Aglianan on what she learned in the simulator. There was a soft buzz and Boro’Sug Aglianan requested permission to move to the launch point. “Boro’Sug, I am here as an observer and instructor. Your instructions are programmed and will be told to you as you need them. I am here to override and instruct. This will be your assignment when you are flight certified. We must train as many instructors as possible. Now lets get to it Boro’Sug.”

“Yes Sir,” was all she said before he was slammed back into his seat and she was maneuvering and following the training instructions. He overrode her several times in the first several exercises but she slowly took control and she was able to finally move smoothly through the training exercise with no errors. Flipping several switches, he took the Demon out of training mode and gave the ship to her. His instructions were to fly to Earth, land without being observed, exit the ship, revert to human form and go get him a Diet Barq’s.

She landed outside a small town in Northern California called Bodega Bay. She walked into the small town, found the soda, brought it back and as Zak drank, she reverted to her Copani self. “Well done Boro’Sug, let’s get back.” As she silently ascended, he flipped on the local communications and the news was on, the broadcaster excitedly talking about the sighting of a small, sleek and fast space ship.

He laughed and told her to be more careful the next time. He ordered her back to the ship and when they had landed he told Oncanon to take her to her Demon, get her situated and then told her to learn how to fly the real Demon class ship. He suggested she name the ship and register it with the ships computer.

As she left with Oncanon, he turned to enter the flight deck when Ontanon appeared. “An urgent message from Te’Zsing, sir.” Zak rushed to the Com Controls and as the lights touched his senses, Te’Zsing’s message played back to him and his feelings of dread and fear returned, harder and more intense now that there was the distinct possibility she had been killed or kidnapped. He sent a burst message to Te’Zsing and sat back, his eyes hooded, his hands crushing the arms of his chair.
 
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My Cyclone was in sight now. I was almost safe. I glanced somewhat anxiously over my shoulder and stepped out into the parking structure.

“Fleet Admiral Ghar!”

So close…

“I am so very pleased I was able to find you before you went home for the evening Admiral.”

So very close…

Killing one of the Emperor’s many cousins was considered rude. Fatally rude. Unless you thought of a way of doing it without getting caught. I smiled with that in mind and turned to face the owner of the voice. “Lord N’Fan, to what do I owe the honor?”

“Don’t worry Admiral. I only wish a few moments of your time.” N’Fan’s smile was sly and oily just like the man himself. “I know you have plans with the new Chief of Staff tonight. You Draskans are quite the passionate people, aren’t you?”

“Yes. You will find that my people are quite passionate in love, war…” I paused a moment to examine my fingernails and several blurry outlines detached themselves from various shadows on our level. “…and revenge to name only a few of the things worth being passionate about.”

“Ah yes…revenge. I am passionate about that as well.” N’Fan’s eyes became unfocused as he recalled some past insult or perhaps imagined strangling the offender. “Perhaps someday I may ask you to do a favor for me. You are renowned for your efficiency in such matters. That is for another time though.

“You have been brought back from the Rim in order to lead our forces to a glorious victory. There are, however, many paths to glory my dear Admiral. Some lead outward…others lead inward.” N’Fan met my eyes expectantly, one conspirator hoping to find another. “If you were to journey down the right path…with the proper companion to guide you…your rewards would be great.”

“Ah, but what would lie at the end of such a path?” I reviewed the identities of all the assassination victims hoping to find some common thread to link back to N’Fan. The universe, as always, did not favor such a simple answer. N'Fan droned on and I decided I needed to pay attention or risk missing some cue to reply.

“The centers of power are changing in our empire Admiral. Perhaps with a loyal officer and a good many ships an ambitious and intelligent being could control them all…in the Emperor’s Holy Name of course.” N’Fan motioned with his ivory cane and an armored limo glided over to us. “We can talk more of this later in the privacy of my home. I only wanted to be sure I spoke with you before some of the subversive elements filled your head with lies. Enjoy your evening Fleet Admiral.”

I entered my Cyclone as the limo stately glided away with N'Fan safely tucked with its armored confines. I tapped in the start up sequence and turned to the apparently empty seat beside me. “What did you make of that?”

“Just another mundane plot to take over the Empire, Warlord. We would be doing conspirators everywhere a service if you allowed us to eliminate that annoying d'gha, Warlord. Useless as he is, he was correct about one thing. The centers of power do seem to have shifted to someplace new,” Spymaster Issa-Fal, head of the Intelligence units of the Alae, spoke as her cloaking shield deactivated. The distinctive tusks of an Appian female grew out from either side of her lower jaw and curved upward, staying close to her face and ending just beneath her eyes. Her tusks were polished to a gleaming white and she wore an intricately patterned gold ring on each tusk. While on duty she would never dream of wearing more tusk rings or the tusk tips many Appian women favored. “We will find these centers of power soon enough.”

“I hope P’Mela will be of some help there. She has access to all the resources of the Feet. No doubt the two of you working together will be able to determine the reason behind this latest spate of assassinations.” I maneuvered the Cyclone out of the parking structure and headed back to my house near the shore. It was raining but that was no surprise on a planet that seemed to be nothing more than one large rain forest. “Speaking of which, you have seen to all the new security measures around her dwelling?”

“Yes Warlord. Her starship sent us some rather stern warnings at first, but we sent it the full security plan and it seems satisfied for the time being. Several of my agents have been in contact with her Special Assistant,P'Aylie. A very clever woman with a natural aptitude for...my line of work. It remains to be seen how the Lady P'Mela feels about working closely with barbarian Appie hordes. Although, with me in charge of her bodyguard she will no doubt quickly see the falsehood of the barbarian myth surrounding my people.” Issa looked over her tusks at me and batted her eyelids in a mock flirtatious expression. Any Appian male who gave in to such an expression was said to be gored on the tips of a woman’s tusks. Appians were not known for the quaintness of their speech. “In all seriousness, she strikes me as a very reasonable woman and I think we shall get along quite well with one another. It may take time, but I feel certain it will come to pass.”

“I agree. P’Mela is unlike any other Draskan woman I have known…” I thought back on our night together and wondered what it was that I sensed about P’Mela. She was different from any Draskan woman I had ever met.

“I cannot spy on her for you if I am to protect her Warlord. You know this.” Issa-Fal interrupted my thoughts. Appians had very strict ideas concerning the workings of the Universe.

“Of course. I would never ask you to do such a thing.”

“I thought as much, but sometimes you men overlook such details.” The Appian woman paused to smile at me through her tusks. “That is why you need women to take care of them for you.”

“Oh yes. I believe you and P’Mela will get along quite well.”
 
As P’Mela had prepared to leave her office, only forty-five minutes earlier than D’Nel’s departure, P’Aylie walked in. “General, I have some things you’ve requested, as well as your ration crystal for the month.” The young and very beautiful Draksan woman handed the data crystals to P’Mela “The clear one contains the compilation data you requested and the one with the royal seal is your ration crystal.” She gave the Draksan sign of respect and turned to leave the office.

“P’Aylie?” The young woman turned to P’Mela “Why do I require a ration crystal planetside? Those are used just aboard starships, are they not?” A puzzled expression clearly showed.

“These are new just this month, General. We’ve encountered shortages of a few things. Apparently, rebels from the Rim seized one of our warships and attacked supply lines from two of the farm planets to Ch’chock’pi. The Emperor asked the population’s assistance with rationing until they are apprehended and supply lines are free.” The innocence on P’Aylie’s face was pure! The answer muddied the situation even more for P’Mela. She thanked her assistant and left the office.

At the exit, she was met by four Appie....females, apparently they had had a shift change. Nervously, she allowed them to surround her and escort her to the limousine. One stop on the way home for the supplies she needed to prepare the special dinner for D’Nel, added more questions that needed answering. The meat she requested was part of the ration, as well as the k’nafa and the salad ingredients. Over half her items were on ration! But seeing her uniform and her four Appies, she was assisted ahead of anyone in civilian clothes, and received her full order. And though she had insisted she wait her turn, the civilians pulled back and let her go ahead of them. Strange behavior! Nothing like the last time she had been to Ch’chockpi.

P’Mela arrived home, mind in overdrive with questions. She noticed her guards signaling to others, whom she could not see. Sighing deeply, she hurried inside to the peace of her home. She quickly prepared the nice meat with its marinade, and set the salad ingredients into cold water to crisp.

Quickly P’Mela showered and did her makeup faster than she ever had before. She dressed in the very sheer, russet colored thobs and femininely embroidered chemise, with the cream and brown braid closures. Her hair was brushed and left free to the view, with final additions of catseye earrings. She was in the kitchen, preparing the meat for grilling when the door chime sounded.

Opening the door, she smiled at D’Nel standing there holding flowers and accompanied by a Appie female, taller and broader than he was. She was actually beautiful in an Appie sort of way. The two were asked in. D’Nel leaned over, kissing her quickly on the lips and then handed her the flowers. They were beautiful pale pink cabbage roses, and the tears welled up in her eyes.

“I believe the WarMaster General is unhappy with your choice, Warlord.” declared the Appie female brusquely.

“On the contrary, these are my favorite flowers. How did you know, D’Nel?” P’Mela tried to calm her shaky voice and she blinked away the tears as she buried her nose in their fragrance.

“I didn’t know. They were just the most beautiful flowers in the shop.” he answered softly.

“And the most expensive!” declared the Appie rather sternly. D’Nel shot her a look that P’Mela missed and Issa’s double jaws clicked rapidly in merriment. At the sound, P’Mela looked up at the female and noticed the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Let me introduce Issa-Fal. She has requested to lead your security team.” D’Nel walked inside and whipped off his heavy uniform jacket, tossing it casually over the sofa back, and unbuttoned the tight collar of the under shirt. Then he walked back up to P’Mela and his hand slid possessively around her waist, and he buried his nose in her hair. Issa watched the informal actions of these Draksans together and made notation of the changes in the Warlord’s respiration and facial muscles. He seemed very relaxed around this woman. Her eyes never left the two of them. She had already toured the house earlier and knew the location of each piece of furniture. But she had never witnessed the Warlord in this situation. As a trained sociologist, it was an opportunity the Appian female did not want to miss.

P’Mela looked up and made the Draksan bow of respect to the Appian and said softly “It is my honor, Issa-Fal. Please come in.” D’Nel shot a look to Issa which all but dismissed her instead. The look, Issa ignored. Seeing the k’nafa samovar and service set up for two, Issa said “May I perform the k’nafa ceremony for you, WarMaster General?” P’Mela agreed to it, as soon as she got her roses in water it could be performed.

D’Nel and Issa exchanged some quiet words as they waited on P’Mela to return. The clicking of Issa’s lower jaw in mischief was beginning to irritate the Warlord.

As P’Mela returned and set her large bouquet on the dining table, she walked over to the smaller ceremonial table. D’Nel pulled her chair out to seat her and then took his seat. Issa, well prepared as usual, put down her backpac, pulling a lightweight Draksan shawl from it. She covered her head out of respect for the Draksan female. Her fingers lightly touched the silver service ensuring it was arranged according to etiquette and began to mix the k’nafa. She chanted in Draksan as she added the hot water very slowly, blessing the mixture. P’Mela and D’Nel stared at her in amazement. Except for a few words which were not pronounced entirely correct, her Draksan was the best ever spoken by a non-Draksan. It was a language usually not spoken off homeworld. A very complex language, both P’Mela and D’Nel realized that the double-jaw hinge on the Appian and the shape of her teeth and tongue precluded her ability to make certain sounds perfectly.

Since the k’nafa ceremony was being conducted inside the General's home, etiquette required Issa to address both of them by their given names, not titles. Though uncomfortable with that, Issa tried to cover her tension at calling them P’Mela and D’Nel. She hoped they didn’t take her adherence to etiquette as a breach in military protocol. It was always difficult with aliens to know how they would take certain actions to heart.

“May I serve you, P’Mela?” asked Issa, waiting for permission before touching the cup.

“Yes, please do.” came the required answer, with a polite bow of the head. Issa slowly poured the mixture through the silver strainer. Then she carried the cup two handed to the left side of the woman and set it slowly in front of her. Returning to the samovar, she asked to serve D’Nel and he agreed. Again she poured slowly and walked to his left side, placing the cup two handed in front of him. Once again, returning to the samovar, she asked in turn if she could sweeten, then lighten, the drink for each of them. To Issa, it was a ridiculously slow and methodical thing, the k’nafa ceremony. But it was the first time she had ever performed it for someone. She had practiced it for herself when she began to study the Draksan. She realized near the end of the ceremony, it had achieved exactly what it was intended to do. It slowed everything down, forcing calm and patience on the individual. As she concluded the ceremony, she asked their permission to leave, and getting permission, she pulled the shawl from her hairless head, and grabbed her backpac, leaving them alone quickly.

The two took first sips of the k’nafa and then “She is a very interesting Appie, D’Nel. Where did you find her?”

The comment angered D’Nel and he set his cup down loudly and snapped “We have to talk about your racism, P’Mela. It is not becoming!”
 
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“Racism?” P’Mela almost choked on her swallow of k’nafa “I? Racist? I am the least racist person you’ll ever meet, D’Nel. I have traveled countless planets and ....”

“And you are still racist!” snapped D’Nel, his voice deep and louder than he had intended. He stood, and began to pace back and forth in front of the row of window-doors which overlooked the large ocean like-lake. He stopped, looking out over the waves washing on shore and the continuing rain. “By the gods, I hate this f’ancking planet!” he announced in further anger. Then turning to look at P‘Mela, he continued “You should see the way you look at the Appians! You even called them Appies, like it is their racial identity. I am proud to call them friends and allies!” his face had grown red through his tan and his pale quicksilver blue eyes had darkened slightly.

Shock was clearly evident on P’Mela as she thought through something and then her voice, almost hollow, asked “Appie is not their species name?” Her eyes searched his. She had trully not realized the extent of her feelings and actions. She was honestly shocked at the revelation about herself. It showed in her eyes, in her expression. Her hands, shaking slightly, picked up her k’nafa cup and drank fully. “I....I am sorry, D’Nel. I didn’t realize that I had these feelings. It is just that...well...they frighten me. They are unlike any species I have encountered.”

“And how are they different, P’Mela? Have you ever met any prior to meeting me and my guards?” his eyes bored right through her.

Looking at him, she thought back. After several long tense moments she said softly “No, D’Nel. I have never met any Appians before meeting you and your security team. I guess it is the legends and stories surrounding them that scare me.”

He took several long strides to her side, and slowly pulled her up from her chair. His hands caressed her face, his fingers brushed back some loose strands of her dark chestnut hair, and he began to softly place kisses on her cheeks and forehead. “Then dismiss legends and stories. Get to know them on your own. They are not barbarians. They possess the same emotions and ambitions that any sentient race does. They love, hate, desire, tease, question just as you and I do. They are my friends.” His hands had slipped over her shoulders and down, pulling her tightly to him and his lips covered hers. Just as he started to kiss her passionately, he breathed “Give them a chance, P’Mela.”

Their first argument ended quickly. They quickly undressed one another. Pulling cushions from the sofa, they made love on the carpet in front of the lake view windows. Afterwards, P’Mela lay against his side, her head on his shoulder. Both stared quietly out into the rain and down to the waves ripping across the lake. The thunder and lightening never ceased on this planet, or so it seemed to two desert dwellers. “I really do hate this f’ancking planet. I won’t miss it when my Alae is deployed.” D’Nel was merely thinking out loud but the thought nagged at P’Mela. She stayed quiet.

An hour after the argument had abruptly ended, they were standing and replacing the sofa cushions. P’Mela brought out two robes and tossed one to D’Nel. He looked at it, laughed, and then slipped it on. “By the gods, I hope none of the Appians see me in this!” he announced. He was wearing her pale yellow silk robe which was embroidered with Draskan flowers and birds. It was several inches too short and tight thru the shoulders but preferable to his uniform. P’Mela looked at him and started laughing. D’Nel began to strut like a Draksan female, and modeling his robe when he heard laughter and giggling. His head snapped around and two of the Appian female guards had been checking the house perimeter and stood looking at him through the window-doors.

D’Nel ran into the kitchen, hearing the Appian clicking sounds and laughter behind him. P’Mela was doubled over in laughter and managed to cough off the words “Warlord looks delightful in his yellow silk robe with flowers!” She laughed again and when he grabbed at her to kiss her laugh away, she pushed the chopping knife at him and said “Warlord, chop the salad ingredients, please.” She was still laughing as she began the grill and prepared the pasta
 
Approximately the time D'Nel and P'Mela were sitting down to dinner on Ch'chockpi, ZakRianan was receiving another message from Te'Zsing sent less than a day after his last message:

Boro’Ank ZakRianan,

She is alive and well! A Draksan male, another officer with whom she works, has saved her life. He appears to have private security teams around him and possibly her as well. Unsure of their relationship, however. It is suspicious to me that he has chosen her of all females at the restaurant to befriend. Most suspicious. I watch him as well. Though a strange shielding prevents me from observing him within certain locations.

Additional good news. Boro'Ches P'Mela has gotten my demolition stopped. In addition they are outfitting me with the latest in Sonjon jump engines but this also requires that my primary and secondary hull be reinforced to withstand the greater velocities.

This new jump technology is much further advanced than my previous outfitting. It will allow P'Mela to travel without aide of the statis capsule, thus preventing the space sickness which would overcome her.

I am sending specifications on the jump engines to you as directed. Significant improvements! The previous 26 standard days of travel from Earth to Ch'chockpi would have taken us less than 10 days with this new technology. However, radical shielding is involved along the nacelles to protect crews from the radiation it generates. I am unfamiliar with the source of power.

I am also including some unusual comm messages I have monitored from the Ch'chockpi deep space tachyon relay station. I do not understand significance but felt them unusual enough that the information might be of use to you.

Sincerely, and happily,
Te'Zsing.
 
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“Go back to sleep. I need to clean the kitchen.” P’Mela whispered to D’Nel as his hand tried lightly to pull her back to bed.

“Stay!” he whispered and started to kiss her again, his hands touching her softly and intimately. “Stay, please. We can both clean the kitchen afterwards, or tomorrow morning!” he encouraged. His kisses were nearly impossible for her to avoid, but she pulled away, smiled and told him again to sleep.

Later, as she finished the kitchen and started into the bedroom, she saw him sleeping deeply thanks to a flash of lightening outside the large windows. Pulling the doors together quietly, she padded over to her comm station and put through a message to Te’Zsing. Turning the volume as low as possible, she waited on the link to connect.

P’Mela reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the data crystal of information that P’Aylie had collected for her. It contained: the deploy orders for every warship she had seen on the THD (Tactical Holo Display) in her office; the personnel file on each bridge officer of each warship; and the staff files for everyone currently assigned to Command Headquarters with her. She rolled the crystal around in her palm impatiently waiting on Te’Zsing to connect with her. Their agreement had included how he would scramble messages to thwart any listeners who could be observing her.

When he finally came on line, she quickly instructed him: “Te’Zsing, upload the data crystal information from my port now.” She slid the data crystal in and heard the click into place. As the files uploaded to him, she softly gave him instructions on what she needed analysis and on whom.

“Are you alright P’Mela?” asked Te’Zsing in his concerned voice.

P’Mela smiled into the viewer and said “I’ve never been better, Te’Zsing. I see download is now complete. Goodnight, My Friend.” Disconnecting and shutting down the comm station, she started to pull the data crystal out when D’Nel’s hand beat her to it by inches. She hadn’t heard him come out from the closed bedroom and slowly looked up his nude body, standing there next to her. He rolled the crystal in his palm, just as she had done before, but he was staring at her. She stood before him slowly, while her mind raced with plausible excuses she knew she would need. But her mind was jumbled with emotions and confused about what she should tell him. Trust? She didn’t trust him completely. Maybe someday but not just yet.

His quicksilver eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the room, broken only by lightening bursts. She could see his jaws working in anger, or maybe in frustration, or perhaps even in fundamental uncertainty. “Are you a spy against the Empire, P’Mela?” he asked softly, slipping the crystal back into the pocket of her silk robe. Curious that he would slip the crystal back into her possession before he had time to discern her motives.

“No, D’Nel. I am not a spy. Honestly, I don’t trust a lot of people or machines. I do trust Te’Zsing. He has not failed me or hurt me. If he analyzes something and tells me the results, then I don’t doubt him.” She explained. It was the truth, as much as she wanted to tell him at this point.

He placed his hands softly on her hips, then slid them to the small of her back as he pulled her to him. Then whispering directly in her ear, he said “You are Chief of Staff and priviledged with this information. I trust you P’Mela. The questions you asked the ship, is my warship and Alae included for analysis?” His warm lips were working slowly down her neck as his hands had slipped inside her robe. Her hands began to caress him in return.

“Yes, D’Nel. I did include your ships, and you, for the ship’s analysis.” she responded honestly.

“There was no need. You could have asked me.” His lips worked back up her neck, and at her ear, he whispered who had signed his reassignment paperwork, and who had ordered the redeployment of his Alae. The name surprised her, and she pushed away slightly. Their pale blue eyes locked. Her look was asking him silently “Really?” He smiled and nodded, then kissed her deeply. Her arms went around his shoulders, holding him closely as she returned the kiss. D’Nel finally broke the kissing and taking her hand, led her back towards the bedroom.
 
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